


convalescence

by owlsii



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Anxiety, Autistic Alvie, Hopeful Ending, Hospitals, Light Angst, M/M, Stimming, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 15:31:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16663486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlsii/pseuds/owlsii
Summary: Wilson sat in the empty chair next to him, hands wrapped around a patient’s file. “It’s never easy, until you know they’re getting better.”“Heisgetting better,” Alvie insisted hollowly.





	convalescence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smallredboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/gifts).



> [this was for a prompt on tumblr!](http://owlsii.tumblr.com/post/180251852478/youre-going-to-be-fine-i-promise-with-halvie)
> 
> alvie's an intern at the hospital. house's illness is vague bc i didn't want to research it. oops
> 
> there's some sad parts but it ends nicely!
> 
> the title is "convalescence" bc i really like how the word sounds

Alvie sat in the waiting room at PPTH, letting the background noise of worried patients wash over him. His leg bounced uncontrollably, and he bit his fingertips, trying to shove down the anxiety swirling around his chest. He stared at the floor, not caring if the patients saw him as weird because he was too occupied with thinking about—

“Alvie?”

He looked up. Wilson was standing over him. Alvie stopped bouncing his leg and sat criss-cross on the chair. He didn’t stop biting his fingers.

“Alvie, what are you doing here?” Wilson asked quietly. Alvie could feel the pity dripping from his voice. Psh. He didn’t need pity. Wilson should know better. “You don’t have to come in for your shifts, you know. Cuddy said she’d let you off until House—”

“I’m not here for my shifts,” Alvie interrupted, refusing to make eye contact. The doctor smiled sadly and shifted his feet, trying to formulate words that would be a better comfort to Alvie. “It’s just... It’s really fucking hard to visit him.”

“I know.” Wilson sat in the empty chair next to him, hands wrapped around a patient’s file. “It’s never easy, until you know they’re getting better.”

“He _is_ getting better,” Alvie insisted hollowly.

Wilson paused, observing the mess of a man sitting next to him. It looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Alvie noticed Wilson’s lack of an answer to his statement and felt a sharp pang of anxiety in his stomach.

“It might be hard, but I think...” Wilson shook his head and corrected himself. “I _know_ he’d love to see you.”

~

Alvie was biting his fingers again, pacing up and down the hallway. Every time he passed the door, a dozen thoughts whirled around his brain, telling him to _go in already_ or _knock_ or _just go back and do your shift_ or _run away and never come back_.

 _Cross off that last one,_ he thought. _I can’t leave him. Not again._

He sighed. He was gonna have to go in, eventually. He couldn’t keep pushing this off. He couldn’t run away this time.

With that thought in mind, he knocked on the door.

“Occupied.”

Alvie chuckled and opened the door. He looked up to see House, laying in the hospital bed, in the boring, pristine white room. There were no trinkets or decorations or flowers or teddy bears or ‘get well’ cards. No one had brought any.

“Hey, babe,” Alvie said, a smile tugging at his lips despite the overwhelmingly dreary feeling in the room. “How are you doing?”

“I found a cure,” House said, tilting his head up and giving Alvie his best puppy-eyes. “I need a kiss.”

“Mhm. Okay.” Alvie leaned down and pecked him on the nose.

“Hey! You know that’s not what I meant!” House protested. “I require a full makeout session!”

Alvie laughed and pulled over a chair. House glared at him, which only made him laugh more.

“You can get a full makeout session when there’s no risk of you coughing directly into my mouth,” Alvie said smugly.

“I would never—” House started, but then his breath hitched and he started coughing. Alvie’s eyebrows furrowed with worry and he moved to help House, but his hands were swatted away. “I don’t... I don’t need help.”

“You...” Alvie wanted to argue, he wanted to yell ‘of course you need help, you fucking idiot!’ in House’s face, because goddammit, he needed to stop being so stubborn. But he didn’t. Instead, he chose the only comforting words he could think of at the moment. “You’re gonna be fine. I promise.”

“You shouldn’t tell me that.” House shifted his position slightly, causing him to wince with pain. He didn't even glance in Alvie's direction. “I don’t want you making promises you can’t keep.”

Alvie nodded silently and fell back into his chair, fingertips absentmindedly ending up in between his teeth. He bit down hard, and he couldn’t tell if the tears pricking at his eyes were from fear or pain. Maybe both. Probably both.

“You’re being so quiet,” House said softly. He turned his head to stare at Alvie, who quickly looked away.

Alvie loved House. _Oh god_ , he loved House so much. He loved his looks, his personality, his everything. But ever since getting sick... it’s like everything about him changed. Alvie knew once House got better, everything would go back to normal. House’s exhausted eyes would go back to only-slightly-tired ones, his clever quips would go back to their former glory, his smile wouldn’t always be so _sad_.

“I just want you to get better,” Alvie said, laughing a little. He tried to hide how scared he sounded. “I figured hearing me ramble would only slow it down. It can’t be relaxing.”

“No, it actually...” House coughed a few times and then looked up at him with those exhausted eyes. “It actually kind of is.”

Alvie blinked. Oh. He shifted so he was leaning forward, elbows on the bed and holding House’s hand. He sat cross-legged, leg not bouncing, fingers not being bitten.

“What should I talk about?” he asked.

“What about that new movie you’re obsessed with?” House offered. “With the slimy goo alien?”

“V...Venom?” Alvie said. House nodded. “That’s— okay. I’m going to ignore the fact you just called Venom a ‘slimy goo alien’ and talk about how gay Eddie is for him.”

“He’s gay for the slime alien!?”

“Yeah! It’s totally canon. I mean, in the comics it’s explicitly stated that they consider themselves married, and they call each other cute pet names, so like, the gay vibes naturally carry over into the movie. But what really shows how gay they are is when...”

Wilson listened to Alvie’s voice as he stood just outside the room, a hand on the doorknob. Neither of the two men noticed as he closed the door with a soft click. He turned away and looked down at the patient file in his hands.

 _Dr. Gregory House._ Wilson smiled. It wasn’t a happy smile, but it wasn’t a sad one, either. He couldn’t really tell. But he’d just come back from the lab, and he could tell what the newest numbers on House’s chart meant. He focused on the muffled voices still coming from inside the room.

“So Eddie goes to investigate, right? But then—”

“Wait, when does the gay alien appear?”

“Oh my god.”

He chose to leave them alone, for now. He’d tell Alvie the good news later.


End file.
